The Pirate Lord: A Love Too Proud
by Spittle is Unclean
Summary: Emotionally incompetent, Horatio Hornblower struggles to come to terms with the relationships in his life and the lack of undergarments for the midshipmen.
1. Horatio's Discovery

TITLE: The Pirate Lord: A Love Too Proud  
AUTHOR: Spittle is Unclean  
DISCLAIMER: We do not own the rights to the Hornblower books or miniseries.  
NOTES/WARNINGS: This story, set at an indiscriminate point in time between the first two seasons of the Horatio Hornblower miniseries, deals with serious issues. The world of illness is filled with gritty hardships and night sweats, and the sailor sex is hurried and fraught with the danger of discovery. Please do not read this fic if you do not feel fit to deal with the emotional repercussions.  
  
CHAPTER ONE: Horatio's Discovery  
  
It was on a bright and balmy day that Horatio Hornblower learned his captain's darkest secret.  
  
He had come to Captain Pellew's chambers to alert him of the theft of the midshipmen's underwear. It was the third such theft in the last two months, and Horatio was hoping that perhaps this time, Captain Pellew would resort to random floggings until the thieves had been discovered. Were this the case, Horatio would be mercifully saved from having to listen to the midshipmen's long conversations regarding the chafing of their more delicate parts, a subject that always left him thoroughly embarrassed.  
  
So eager to suggest punishment was the young lieutenant that he forgot to knock on his superior officer's door before bursting in to share the scandalous news.  
  
Mr. Hornblower! Captain Pellew barked, the tension in his voice betraying his surprise. He seemed about to say something else, but instead he gave a hacking cough. A rosy spot of blood appeared on the lacy handkerchief he held to his lips, and Horatio gasped audibly.  
  
Captain! Sir, might I inquire as to what ails you?  
  
Captain Pellew, who had crumpled the handkerchief secretively in his palm in the hopes that young Hornblower might not see, now tossed it onto the table violently. I believe it is plain enough, Mr. Hornblower.  
  
You...you are... He paused, a chilling feeling of hopelessness suddenly filling his heart.  
  
A consumptive, Mr. Hornblower. Yes, he added, as Horatio's face fell into the troubled look of near-vomitting the captain knew so well, I am a consumptive.  
  
Horatio gulped and looked down again at the horrible object, which lay between the two men on the table, beside a blood-speckled map of England. The red was already fading to a rusty brown on the frilly edges of the handkerchief. How many handkerchiefs had been stained before this one? How many more were to be stained in the days to come?  
  
Whatever I can do, Horatio whispered, I shall.  
  
Captain Pellew had not heard him, however, as he had gone into another coughing fit. When this one subsided, he turned his eye on Horatio. But his eye did not sparkle with the usual rascally glint he reserved for his favorite lieutenant. It was absent of light, clouded with the heaviness of the knowledge of his impending doom.  
  
Fetch my nightgown, sir, he ordered weakly, before promptly fainting away.


	2. Trusting Archie

TITLE: The Pirate Lord: A Love Too Proud  
AUTHOR: Spittle is Unclean  
DISCLAIMER: We do not own the rights to the Hornblower books or miniseries.  
NOTES/WARNINGS: This story, set at an indiscriminate point in time between the first two seasons of the Horatio Hornblower miniseries, deals with serious issues. The world of illness is filled with gritty hardships and night sweats, and the sailor sex is hurried and fraught with the danger of discovery. Please do not read this fic if you do not feel fit to deal with the emotional repercussions.  
  
CHAPTER TWO: Trusting Archie  
  
You seem troubled, Horatio, Archie said sweetly as the two lay side by side in their hammocks that evening.  
  
That is because I _am_ troubled, Archie, Horatio replied, fiddling aimlessly with a lock of Mr. Kennedy's long and womanly mullet. But it is not your burden to bear.  
  
With such a friendship as ours, Horatio, I should hope that all your burdens might be mine as well. Do tell me!  
  
But Horatio seemed to have fallen asleep, and Archie was left to listen to the angry complaints of the undergarmentless midshipmen.  
  
The next morning, however, he re-approached Horatio, who was picking sadly at his hardtack as he leaned picturesquely against some stinking barrels.  
  
Hello, Archie, he murmured distractedly, pitching the hardtack to a band of surly sailors who had been glaring in the youths' direction.  
  
You are still troubled, Archie said, getting right to the point. Please trust me!  
  
said Horatio. Captain Pellew is a consumptive.  
  
It was far worse news than Archie had expected.  
  
he said softly, pulling his friend into his arms, Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, my love.  
  
Horatio buried his curly head in Archie's chest and found that he was crying. His own tears surprised him, and he was grateful when Archie helped him to a more secluded area, far from the prying eyes of the ungarmentless sailors.  
  
Nothing was more comforting than being wrapped in Archie's embrace, and Horatio was aroused even before his friend began to fiddle with his breeches.  
  
he whispered into Archie's mullet, while Archie kissed his way down Horatio's white, swanlike neck.  
  
Archie possessed him in one fell swoop, and Horatio, pressed against a grimy, rotting wall, felt searing pleasure. With every thrust, his screams grew louder, and, in his excitement, he kicked over a barrel of hard cheese. Horatio felt his own breeches being pulled up and, turning to ask Archie what was wrong, saw that, further down the corridor, gnarly Matthews was coming to investigate the noise they were making.  
  
Horatio said, but Archie covered his mouth and pulled him into the store room, where they quickly finished having passionate monkeysex.  
  
said Horatio, and kissed Archie spryly on the mouth, that made me feel a lot better. He stepped instinctively out of his friend's reach, though, when Archie stretched his arms forward.  
  
Archie frowned.  
  
How come you never hold me after sex? he said. I am not simply a toy, you know, to be used to satisfy your base urges and uncouth desires, only to be cast aside afterwards!  
  
Base urges? Uncouth _desires_?!?! Horatio's eyes flashed. _You_ came on to _me_, Archibald!  
  
Archie's lip trembled. If _I _remember correctly, Mr. Hornblower, it was a joint decision. You -- you don't remember? The first time we made love? You were so beautiful that day, your mane billowing in wispy tendrils about the open collar of your nightgown. You took my hand in yours and said it was...the most wonderful thing two men could have... He paused in this lengthy monologue to wipe away the tears that, without warning, had sprung from his eyes.  
  
Horatio looked on smugly as Archie humiliated himself by succumbing to his emotions. _Did_ I say that? he asked, as Archie sobbed brokenly into his sleeve.  
  
Everything all right in there, lads? came Matthews' chipper voice through the thin door. Seems to have been a little accident with the cheese barrel again...STYLES! They heard his footsteps disappear as he made his way above decks.  
  
Archie had pulled himself together somewhat and was re-bundling his luxurious tresses into their beribboned ponytail. His eyes were red, his face grim.  
  
You should see to the captain, sir, he said formally. I have other duties to attend to.  
  
He walked out briskly, his left shoulder twitching slightly. There was an unseemly damp patch on the leg of his trousers. Normally, Horatio would have stopped his lover from leaving a tryst with such incriminating evidence on his person, but not today.  
  
As the door shut behind Archie, Horatio Hornblower crumpled to the floor and wept against a cask of salted beef, wracked by loss and the pain of his forbidden want.


	3. Not Trusting Archie

TITLE: The Pirate Lord: A Love Too Proud  
AUTHOR: Spittle is Unclean  
DISCLAIMER: We do not own the rights to the Hornblower books or miniseries.  
NOTES/WARNINGS: This story, set at an indiscriminate point in time between the first two seasons of the Horatio Hornblower miniseries, deals with serious issues. The world of illness is filled with gritty hardships and night sweats, and the sailor sex is hurried and fraught with the danger of discovery. Please do not read this fic if you do not feel fit to deal with the emotional repercussions.  
  
CHAPTER THREE: Not Trusting Archie  
  
Captain Pellew lay listlessly in his hammock, gazing petulantly at the wall before him. His nightgown was soaked through from many sweats. And even now, his brow was furrowed feverishly. Where was Mr. Bowles with the chicken broth? Why hadn't Mr. Bracegirdle brought him the cold towel as he had promised? And most importantly, where was Horatio? And that other guy with epilepsy, where was he?  
  
Captain Pellew managed to whisper from between his crusty, dehydrated lips.   
  
Only days before, he had been feeling sprightly and full of vigor. Why, just the other day, as he had admired Horatio's youthful form swaying from the rigging, he had said to himself, Edward, this disease need not take over your life. You can be happy and competent, even if you _are_ suffering from a chronic lung illness. I have faith in you!  
  
But that faith was gone now, Pellew thought bitterly, leaning over the side of his hammock to hock up a clump of bloody mucous into his chamber pot. Gone indeed.  
  
came a soft voice from the doorway. Might I come in?  
  
The captain sank back into his hammock and smiled to himself. Of course, Mr. Hornblower. Do shut the door behind you, if you will.  
  
Horatio sidled up to his captain's bedside nervously, which struck Pellew as somewhat ridiculous when contrasted with the many nights when Mr. Hornblower had been all too eager to take his place beside his superior officer in that sling of canvas.   
  
The boy shifted uneasily from one leg to the other. Are you feeling at all better, sir?  
  
Better, Mr. Hornblower? _Better?_  
  
My apologies, sir. I will refrain from asking about your condition in future.  
  
Pellew grumbled, spitting up some more blood with a grimace. You do that, young man. You do that.  
  
Hornblower had pulled up a short stool and now sat beside the captain's hammock, substantially closer to the chamber pot than to the face of his commander. After a few minutes of staring vacantly at the bloody mess within that unfortunate receptacle, he pushed the stool aside and resumed standing.  
  
Captain Pellew? His voice cracked miserably. Sir, what are we to do without you?  
  
There was no response from the good captain. He lay still, breathing shallowly and watching the wall with vacant eyes.  
  
I will return to you later, sir, Horatio finally choked out before turning on his heel and heading for his own quarters.  
  
His hammock was so cold and lonely without Archie near. Of course, it wasn't really time to be lying about in one's hammock, which was probably why Archie was nowhere to be found. But Horatio could foresee many nights without Archie's hammock hanging beside his, and those nights did not look pleasant in the least.  
  
A few midshipmen wandered by, scowling. One of them was complaining at the top of his voice about the scratchiness of his uniform. Horatio sighed and covered his head with his hat. If anyone came to find him, perhaps he could plead seasickness. Before long, he had fallen into a troubled sleep, and while he slept, he dreamed.  
  
_Oh Horatio, gasped Archie, wriggling pleasantly beneath his friend's sweaty body. Do you think we can excuse this by claiming to have been terrifically inebriated?  
  
Horatio ejaculated. No, I really don't think we can.  
  
Oh well, Archie moaned into Horatio's curly mullet. I hope you remembered to lock the door._  
  
Mr. Hornblower, wake up!  
  
Horatio was thrown back into the world of the living with a jolt. He looked about wildly. Wha-what is it?  
  
Matthews was standing over him, his aged eyes crinkled benevolently. Just thought you might like to know that young Kennedy's having a bit of a fit.  
  
A _FIT_? Horatio's voice broke painfully. Matthews, you must take me to him immediately!  
  
The two rushed quickly to the scene. Archie lay flopping about on the deck, his hair escaping from its ponytail and quickly forming a flowing mullet once more. Without thinking twice, Horatio fell to his knees beside his love and took Archie's troubled head into his lap.  
  
Quiet, Mr. Kennedy. Calm yourself!  
  
The sailors stared unashamedly at the pitiful epileptic, who had ceased shaking and now lay unconscious in Hornblower's arms.  
  
Mr. Hornblower, sir? Ought we to take Mr. Kennedy to the infirmary? a crusty midshipman by the name of Mr. Frank asked, tugging at his uncomfortable breeches as he spoke.  
  
Yes, do, Horatio mumbled distractedly, helping to lift Archie's limp body and carry it to the berth of the ship's doctor. Mr. Kennedy has had an accident. He will soon be well again, but he requires a change of pants, as he has wet his own, he informed the doctor. I shall be down to look in on him shortly.  
  
He made his way above decks, tipping his hat to Mr. Bracegirdle, who was conducting a rather ramshackle shipwide search for the midshipmen's underwear. Ignoring the lieutenant's request for help, Horatio strode to the side of the ship and looked longingly out into the waves. They were so blue and endless, and Horatio wondered sadly if he would ever see land again, ever tumble in the brush with Archie, sticks painfully jabbing them in the back.  
  
Perhaps he had caused Archie's fit. Perhaps they would never lie together again, on land or sea. Just considering such a possibility was enough to break the young seaman's heart _and _soul. He should never have been so cruel, but how could he explain to Archie...he simply had an aversion to certain things.  
  
His thoughts were sharply interrupted, however, by a hand grabbing his own slender wrist. A hand tattooed with a symbol familiar and petrifying to young Horatio Hornblower. And beneath that hand, clinging to the side of _H.M.S. Indefatigable_, was one Mr. Midshipman Jack Simpson.  
  
Oh my, said Horatio as his wrist made a slight popping sound.


	4. Powerless

TITLE: The Pirate Lord: A Love Too Proud  
AUTHOR: Spittle is Unclean  
DISCLAIMER: We do not own the rights to the Hornblower books or miniseries.  
NOTES/WARNINGS: This story, set at an indiscriminate point in time between the first two seasons of the Horatio Hornblower miniseries, deals with serious issues. The world of illness is filled with gritty hardships and night sweats, and the sailor sex is hurried and fraught with the danger of discovery. Please do not read this fic if you do not feel fit to deal with the emotional repercussions.  
  
CHAPTER FOUR:   
  
Later, Horatio Hornblower would remember very little of the hours that followed, because he had spent much of them in a dead faint.  
  
He had a quick flashback. Flashback: Horatio's P.O.V.  
  
_It was over. Jack Simpson..._  
  
End of Flashback  
  
Archie awoke the following morning with the uncanny feeling that his life had changed forever. Which was because it had. He stood up stiffly and looked down at his urine-stained trousers.  
  
Oh dear, I must have had a fit, he murmured to the air around him.  
  
He was feeling mighty hungry and was about to leave the sickbed and find some breakfast when his sparkling eye fell upon Horatio's wan visage.  
  
The youth was passed out in a hammock, his wrist bandaged rather sloppily with a stocking and some bits of twine.  
  
Archie ejaculated forcefully, before he could stop himself. Horatio's eyes sprang open.  
  
Archibald, hush! he cried, pulling Archie into the hammock beside him. I must tell you, he murmured between feverish kisses, that Jack Simpson has returned!  
  
Archie, who had been undoing his mullet in anticipation, paused. His face grew white. His left shoulder twitched solemnly, and he drew back from Horatio, who was eagerly fumbling with Archie's trousers.  
  
Do you not see, Horatio? He is back! All things will be as they were...you understand?  
  
I don't see why anything should --  
  
Horatio was interrupted by a bang as Dr. Hepplewhite threw open the door and strode into the room.  
  
Archie quickly tumbled out of the hammock and landed, with a crack, on the floor. Horatio covered his nakedness with a piece of handy flannel.  
  
Well, boys,Dr. Hepplewhite grunted, stumping over to Archie and examining the blood which was rapidly pouring from his ivory temple. Has Mr. Kennedy had another fit?  
  
I-I couldn't say, Horatio replied, attempting to put on his pants in a somewhat subtle manner. I was asleep, you see...  
  
I do see, said Dr. Hepplewhite. Asleep while your fellow lieutenant was gushing blood all over my cabin floor! You ought to be ashamed!  
  
Horatio rolled over and pretended to be asleep. But his mind was busy, for he was having another flashback.  
  
Flashback: Horatio's P.O.V.  
  
_...was dead. My arm was filled with excruciating pain as I squinted up towards the glamorous silhouette of Captain Pellew with his gun in hand. I turned to look with relish on Jack's dead body, but the corpse had already been cleared away. Only a pool of blood remained.  
  
Gone so soon? I mumbled before fainting away. And all was very dark.  
  
_End of Flashback  
  
FUCK ME HORATIO, Archie said into his acquaintance's ear, and Horatio awoke with a jolt.  
  
Wha-wha-Archie? Why _hello._ It seemed that some hours had passed since Dr. Hepplewhite's appearance in the infirmary. It also seemed that Archie's hair was dow in its wild mullet, which could only mean one thing.  
  
It was time for lots of sex.  
  
Horatio grinned and pulled his elfin lover into his hammock by the ears. All right, darling! He grinned even wider when Archie undid his trousers and took his massive manhood into his little, pretty mouth and employed a variety of techniques.  
  
Exemplary work, as always, Horatio crooned moments later, his passion sated.  
  
If you'll remember my original request -- Archie said, a little put out.  
  
Horatio smirked, turned over, and pretended to be asleep.  
  
Archie snarled, and stalked off to find Oldroyd.  
  
*  
  
It was awful, Jack Simpson was crowing, fingering his stump of a leg self-consciously. When I saw that my cunningly makeshift life-raft was in sight of the _Indy_, I could have cried for joy.  
  
In response, Captain Pellew coughed disapprovingly into his doily.  
  
said Lieutenant Bush admiringly, I seem to have appeared on _this_ boat, which is totally cool with me. And yours is a heroic tale, to be sure. I hope that Captain Pellew will join with me in congratulating you on your safe return.  
  
Captain Pellew tried to roar, I most certainly will _not_, you fool, but his speech was obscured by a series of rather moist hacks.  
  
Very good, sir, Lieutenant Bush said, tousling his captain's hair with vigorous fondness,, I'll help Midshipman Simpson out of these rags, then.  
  
Jack Simpson cackled inwardly. This was working out far better than he had ever hoped for.  
  
Far better, indeed.  
  
*  
  
Archie lay shivering for hours that night. It was not particularly cold, and Oldroyd's boyish arms were wrapped comfortingly about Archie's neck, but the strawberry-haired lieutenant had troubling stuff on his mind.  
  
Had Horatio been telling the truth about Jack? he wondered. Or had it been yet another cruel ruse to get into Archie's skivvies? He was in the habit of employing tricky techniques. Blah, blah.  
  
A solitary tear trickled down Archie's cheek and dripped into his nostril. He sniffed miserably. He had always loved Horatio, but why was it that the boy always unmanned him so?  
  
And speaking of unmanning, Archie had never been so disappointed in his own abilities as this evening. Oldroyd had been very understanding, of course, and had tried his best to calm Archie, but Archie knew perfectly well that it did _not_ happen to everyone. He had flushed with shame and given Oldroyd more coin than usual, begging him not to bring it to the ship's attention that Epileptic Kennedy couldn't get it up for even a quick romp in the store closet. It soothed him to realize that most of the sailors couldn't understand Oldroyd's thick accent anyway.  
  
Slipping out of the slumbering seaman's arms, Archie moved shadow-like into the passageway. He wondered briefly who would be on watch at this hour of the night.  
  
Above decks, the moon shone bright on Horatio's curly head. He was whistling tunelessly and massaging his wrist as he watched the waves. Archie would have liked to convince himself that there was the glint of a tear on his love's cheek, but he knew it was naught but a wishful thought.  
  
he ventured, finally. Hornblower twirled around, his eyes wide.  
  
Oh, Archie, it's only silly you, he replied. How's tricks?  
  
Archie felt a lump rising in his throat and swallowed bitterly. Horatio, we really must rethink our relationship. Without you, I feel...pratically useless. Impotent, one might even say!  
  
Horatio had been trying to pretend to be asleep, but as Archie drew nearer, he gave up on that course of action. Archie, I do care for you. I just feel so...lost, sometimes. Lost in the wildness of these terrible waves. Lost without any horizon in sight. Lost without any harbor to come home to. Lost without any anchor to hold me down. Lost without--  
  
You're not lost anymore, Archie cried, embracing Horatio tightly. I've found you, dearest! We shall be found _together_!  
  
Well, _someone's_ certainly found you together, came the snarling voice of Jack Simpson as he stepped out of the shadows, grinning madly.  
  
  



End file.
